Hello Rapture
by MacCharlie14
Summary: Follow Charlie, as her world changes, opening an opportunity to start a new life, in a new world: Rapture. As she starts to live a normal life, a series of events shake her world, and things don't go to plan. Charlie finds herself doing terrible things she wouldn't expect of herself, but what makes it ok, is the man in the business suit. Adventure story with a side dish of love.
1. 1 Prologue

Authors note:

The first two chapters are by far the most boring, but please don't let this put you off!

Chapter One: Prologue.

Heavy backpack, fumes in the air, tired feet. No, I cannot say that I was particularly fit, or strong for that matter, but I always thought that if I took the harder way, it would help. It hasn't yet. It was as if my body was telling me, what you see is what you get, and theres no changing that. I, of course, am small with a softer build. Determination wasn't going to change that.

Reaching the apartment building and fumbling with the keys, taking my time with the sweet blissful relief I was getting now, before making myself trudge up six flights of stairs. Inside, soft yellows and creams covered the walls, contrasting the grey outside world. England, traditionally, was rarely ever depicted as a bright, colourful place; they're not wrong. The old architecture, bleak skies and tight town streets, collecting gas emissions and keeping out the sun, freezes time, holding the age of which the cities grew and boomed. That was the one nice thing about it.

I am a second year university student, and still, I feel like I don't know nearly enough as I should in order to start a career, make discoveries, understand the in workings of our planet. Will I ever know enough? Is there any point?

The past two World Wars involved soldiers fighting for their countries. Using hand-held weapons and living off what little they could have. But if another war was to begin…it'll be nothing live we have ever had. I fear that today, there might not be a tomorrow, and of course, people-my parents being apart of that group-believe that something so devastating is completely insane to anyone, and therefore, will never happen. I agree on the insane part…but doesn't mean their aren't insane people running the countries.

Inside was warm. I walking past the fridge, noticing a small note on it from mum:

Charlie,

Exchanged shifts with Benny, so I'm working

a 12hr today, won't be back till 6 tomorrow

morning.

We have the ingredients for pasta if you

like.

Lots of Love

Mum.

Mums a nurse, always working odd shifts. Dad is on holiday with his new girlfriend, probably France. 'All the women love France' Dad once said when he took one of he previous ladies to France. His favourite restaurant probably know him too well now also. Its always the same move. Has it worked?

Nope.

After unpacking my notes and books onto my bed, I went to cook dinner. I wasn't particularly gifted in cooking, but if I focus on sticking to the instructions, I MIGHT be able to get a decent meal.

Take that society, a women who can't cook.

********After Dinner********

Sitting on the couch, I flicked onto the news and what I saw I almost couldn't comprehend.

BREAKING NEWS:

Paris booming: Firefighters and Ambulances are not enough:

Unknown suspects: Unknown survivors

Images of screaming people. Some fleeing, some helping others. Fire engines circle around the heart of the blaze.

I was stunned.

Maybe I should ring Dads cell phone number. They were probably at the Hotel, packing to come back, but their flights will surely be delayed now. I stumbled to my feet, then as mechanically as ever, made my way over to the kitchen phone, stabbing each key in, and bringing the receiver up to my ear.

*RING RING***RING RING****RI—

BEEEEEEP

The tone stretched out.

I shuddered. Hung up, rang again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

After hanging up once more I almost screamed when the phone rang instead. I picked up.

"H-hello?" I had to clear my voice.

"Oh sweetie are you ok? Have you seen the news?"

It was mum.

"Yea…"

"Its all over the hospital! I tried calling your father and nothing. Have you tried?"

I looked up at the clock.

"I've been trying to for the past 20 minutes."

"He's….He has probably just left his phone off again…"

"You alright mum?"

"Of course, just checking on you. I've got patients waiting, better go, love you"

I didn't know what to think. I was numb inside. So numb that it actually hurt to not feel anything. The TV was still playing in the background. I closed my eyes. Took a breath. Felt the sway of the world spinning around me. I focused on that as it became faster and faster. Overwhelming in fact. Static filled my ears, roaring.

I opened my eyes. Blinked. Everything was calm and I was okay. I turned the TV off, shut off all the lights, and went to bed, and slept the whole night through.

I woke, got up, went into the bathroom, washed my face, got dressed, and went into the kitchen.

And stopped.

Mum was sitting on the couch, still in uniform, handbag at her feet. I turned around and put the jug on before heading back towards her, saying nothing, but sitting beside her.

I was not very good at this comforting sort of stuff, nor was I good at mourning. I just suppress it and forget it, hoping it doesn't comeback to me in a big hurricane.

And so in silence we sat, until the shrill of the jug, followed by the 'all done' ping cut the silence. I got up, made myself a coffee, and mum a sweetened tea. The first movement from her, was her accepting the tea, gripping the mug, whitening her knuckles. I was worried she could break it. More silence followed.

Mum and Dad were high school sweethearts. Had me at 19 years of age. Dad studied computer programming full time, while mum studied part time at nursing school. Against the odds, they made it work; me, mum and dad, together. At least it was fine until halfway through Elementary. Dad was growing bored with the relationship and craved something more 'fun'. But of course someone had to always be there for me. If Dad had it his was, he would have taken me out of school, and we would halve explored the world together. Dad always promised me of all the adventures we could have had. At such a young age, I was easily turned against Mum. Mum was the realist. The sensible one. She knew that if we took me out of school and left, we would run out of money, I would be uneducated and doomed for a future, and all of us would be miserable.

So Dad gambled. Not a lot, and we never really suffered for it. Not financially anyway. But the friends he made. The women he met. He became so distant. Whenever Dad looked after me and Mum was working, he would teach me card games and tell me secrets. One of them was about a man named Andrew Ryan. A very rich man who rumoured to have built a city under the sea. A city, called Rapture. Oh how I wished I could go, and when I asked how to get there, Dad said if I could beat him in one game of cards, he'd tell me.

And you know what, I won.

He told me, Rapture is west of Iceland, and that Andrew Ryan wanted to escape the upper world, the societies expectations and create a free utopia. But it was also to be kept secret from the world as he fear it would be ruined. You either had to know Ryan to get in, or be smuggled.

A man named Frank Fontaine is he of the largest criminal empires on earth, and can smuggle you in… for a price.

Where can I find this Frank Fontaine? That's when Mum came home, sending me off to bed and telling Dad off for teaching me his gambling ways.

Dad was never a bad father. But he was young, and yearned for what he missed out for.

Because of Me.

Eventually he left. Mum never told him to leave, but she sure made it look like that was what she wanted. Only it wasn't. She never stopped loving him.

"Charlie…" Mums weak voice broke my thoughts.

"Mmmm?"

"I don't want to stay here anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to leave. Leave the city. No. The country."

"Why?"

"Because that's all you father wanted me to do. Its late. But it's better than never."

I contemplated what this meant? "Where would we go?"

"We? No sweetie. Just me."

I almost chuckled at the rhyme if it weren't for what she was saying. "You want to leave me?"

"You need to finish your studies. Im leaving tomorrow."

"You're just leaving me, like that. What about work and ME! Why?"

Mum place her still full mug on the coffee table, standing up and heading towards her room.

"MUM!" I yelled, heat radiating from my face and core. When she didn't reply, I tried again, "mum?"

"You're 18, you can look after yourself."

"That's not the point."

The door slammed shut and I could hear a turn of the key.

Locked.

Somebody, who has only cared for me my whole life, always wanted the better for me, was now shutting me out of their lives? I could see what was happening. Doing one last thing for Dad, without me. To do what they would have, had I not been there to ruin it. I felt sick to my stomach.

I went to my room, shoved my books into my bag, and promptly left for university.

*****That evening******

Flinging myself into the small apartment, chucking my bag to the side, and standing. Standing and listening. I could hear jazz music upstairs, children's tv shows playing to the right and nothing to the left. All is normal, as there is no tenant to the right. All normal except in here. Turning my head knowingly to the fridge, a little pink note was stuck there. I snatch it off reading it.

Charlie,

I hope you understand this someday

And chose to not hate me for this

But I have left today, and have paid

The rent for the next two months in

advance.

Mum.

"WHAT! YOU HAVE LEFT ME! ALONE" tiny pieces of the note dropped from my hand. A nearby chair flew to the wall. Written study notes were thrown up and fell back down like confetti. But I couldn't think. How could I? She really left me. My own mother. Mother? Mum? Left her daughter?

"Close your eyes" I told myself.

"Firstly, calm the fuck down. You need to control yourself. This isn't the end of the world yet."

I tucked into the corner, head between knees in hands.

"Secondly, you need to check yourself. You now have no mother, no father, but you're able to look after yourself. But, where do you want to go from here?

Stay here, you gotta work, study and maintain the apartment.

But you could leave? Find mum, or maybe….."

My thoughts drift to Rapture. Could it be real? But what if…

Snapping my head up, sly grin crossing my face.

"You crazy bastard."

It was decided. I would go follow an invisible La La Land, taking with me nothing but the clothes on my back and small change.

"Andrew Ryan, whether you like it or not, you got yourself another citizen."


	2. Halfway There, No Way Back

Chapter Two: Halfway There, No Way Back.

After stripping, showering, scrubbing my skin raw and soaking myself until my jitters ceased, I slipped into the bedroom, naked and cold, stopping in front of the mirror.

From here, I would dress myself, build myself up from scratch in preparation for a new beginning. To wipe what I was made to be, and chose a new path, making a new Charlie.

Firstly I grabbed my clothes, one to wear, and one to spare, underwear, t-shirt, jacket… I only really have one of that. Socks and shoes. Done.

In my backpack, I also grabbed a Swiss Army knife we had kept in the kitchen draw, a water bottle, some fruit and some canned food.

"What else… think think think." Hand shaking by my leg as I hunched over, sitting on the side of the bed, knowing there was more to be taken, but having the impulse of a rabbit, fleeing at the sound of danger.

"Money? Does Rapture even take this currency?"

Nevertheless I grabbed the little I had from my bedside draw anyway, just for the trip up.

As I gathered my things together, the phone rang, starling me. Cautiously, I approached the kitchen, taking the phone into my hand and bringing it up to me ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey Charlie it's Jenny!"

"Oh? Hi!" Jenny was a good friend of mine, one of my only friends really. I had a lot of 'friends' who were more like acquaintances. People you passed by in life to temporary fill that void which would otherwise expand into a mental chamber of solitary confinement, that only you could feel. Only a few had made it into a genuine friendship with me. Jenny was often busy with performances, whether she was in them, or directing them. I would go to see most of them, getting VIP passes to the after parties, but not very often does Jenny and I hang out as much.

"Im in town, and you won't believe what I have to tell you! But I want to see your face when I tell you! I'm coming over, see you soon."

"See you soon I guess" I was a little shell shocked, feeling a small pang of guilt as I was about to leave without saying goodbye. How was I supposed to know she was here…

Unloading my bag back in my room, setting the jug to boil and unlocking the door, I waited patiently for Jenny on the couch. It wasn't long until the door opened revealing my bubbly friend.

"Good, you're sitting down."

"You might want to sit down too by the looks of it" I smirked.

"Ha-ha…HA!" Jenny plonked down next to me, nudging my shoulder. "Ok, so you remember what your Dad told you about Rapture…" Of course I told Jenny about Rapture. As kids, we would imagine what the city below looked like, and the wonders of living there could hold.

"Heh, funny, I was thinking about finding the damn place…what about it?"

"It's real!"

My eyes got huge. "R-really?"

She nodded, "A man working for… Andrew Ryan interviewed me and said that if I was willing to follow certain procedures and precautions in terms of secrecy, I would be able to obtain a permanent position in the entertainment and theatre community!"

"That's incredible! I'm so proud of you! I told you that you would hit it big someday!" I grinned, reaching my arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently.

"But…" A frown formed on her face as she looked in my eyes.

"But…?"

"But, Rapture is top secret. I'm really not meant to tell you this, but of course I had to. To go to Rapture, means to leave…everything. And everyone. My family couldn't come, and nor could you…"

I hesitated before responding.

"Do it. I gotta plan" I winked, sending a ridiculously concerned look over Jenny's face.

"What…also, where's your mum? Work?"

"Well…" I sighed, and proceeded to recount the events of the past twelve hours.

"And you were just going to run away? Without telling me!?" genuine hurt filled her eyes.

"Ummm…I would have called…" that deserved a good punch to the arm.

"There is no contact between the surface and the underworld. You of all people should know that."

I shrugged. "I guess I was just so…upset…and you know how rash I get when I'm like that…"

"I know…Well" Jenny started again, "I may not be able get you into Rapture, but I can get you halfway." I leaned in to listen. "When I call to accept, you can be apart of my 'farewell party', getting you to Iceland. Those smugglers you speak of, you'll have to find them and go with them, but I haven't a clue where they are, and nor do they…"

"Well…of course they don't know. They're smugglers." I chuckled, rolling my eyes.

"Anyway, let me ring them now." I nodded.

Jenny went for the phone, dialling a number written on her hand, barely having to wait for her offerer to pick up.

"Yes, I have made a decision. I'm in. Yes. Yes. Yes. Excellent. One more thing. I would like transportation there for my farewell party. Yes. Of course. Just my parents and friend. Thank you very much. We'll see you Monday."

I remarked "That was straight forward."

"Yep, well, most of it was explained in person."

"Alright, alright, okay. This is going… to work. But, have you told your parents? Are they ok with this. It's so sudden. You're leaving in three days!"

"I mentioned it, but I hardly see them now. Its just hard to find the time."

Jenny briefly became sad before perking up again. "But hey, I have A LOT of packing to do! Wanna help?"

"Umm, help do work? Sounds hard"

"Come on!" She dragged my arm, I barely had time to lock the door.

We discussed the details, such as me not looking suspicious carrying too much, and disappearing when Jenny's parents went home, "Nothing white lies can't help" Jenny decided, disregarding my fears.

"What if—"

"NO! You can't think about all of the problems that can go wrong. To move forward, you gotta take some risks."

"right…" I sighed. She's not wrong. I continued worked inside my head, trying to get that motivation I had earlier when I just wanted to be rid of this life. I can't back out now. And I won't.

I had dinner with the family, leaving after and deciding to get up on Monday with Jenny's parents, meeting Jenny at the airport as she would be coming from her home.

The following days leading up to the Monday were merely tying loose ends. Talking to the owner of the apartment, telling him I was leaving. Managing to selling a few things such as the couch and dining table at a nearby secondhand store. As for University, I couldn't get any refunds, but I managed to sell my textbooks, and with the total money from my savings, and the selling of the books and furniture, I paid off a portion of my student loan. A long way off still from paying it all off, but it was something.

Monday morning, the drive to the airport was long, I felt giddy with joy knowing how close I was, but nervous too. I've sold my life, now more than ever does it count on me getting this new life. Jenny's parents knew I wasn't coming back with them, though they didn't know to the extend of which I was about to be breaking the law. The less they know, the better they can play the part if questioned about my lack of return to the city.

When we approached the private plane, I realised, I've never been on a plane, I should be scared. But I wasn't. That plane was going to take me somewhere new and exciting. Exactly what I've wanted since Dad planted the idea in my head. But in the back of my mind, I felt slightly lost without my backpack. I had decided to leave it to avoid suspicion. By the time they realise I'm missing, I will hopefully be out of reach.

It was as we were walking up the stairs, did I realise for the whole trip up was I just reinforcing what was already set. Reassuring myself.

Jenny and I sat together, with her parents adjacent and the man who had interviewed Jenny (whom's name I learned to be Josh Matthews) sat opposite us, writing notes, perhaps an article on Jenny's great adventure to Rapture. As we took off, I nearly fainted as my stomach flipped. Jenny laughed at my discomfort before grabbing my hand and squeezing, as if to say sorry. We made small talk for the next three and a half hours, being mildly cautious of our words in front of Josh Matthews, who scribbled in his notebook every so often.

After landing, a limousine took us to the docks, where Jenny was to embark on a stark white Yacht, lined with Roségold rails. First Jenny farewelled her parents, giving each a long hug, telling them how much she would miss them, and how much they would miss her. When she turned to me, though on the outside we farewelled, on the inside, we knew, soon, we would see each other again. That was, if I will be successful.

After her departure, I snuck away, melting in the shadowed alleyways.

"Where would you hide a smuggling company?"


	3. This Way, That Way

Chapter Three: This Way, That Way

And so I found myself walking between the streets and docks. If this smuggling ring hasn't been busted yet, what makes me think that I could find it?

Pubs begin to open, cafes start to close and the nightlife comes out as the sun sinks below the western horizon. Orange darkens to blue and twinkling stars above dot the sky. A salty cool breeze sends chills down my spine, causing small shivers. A couple stumble out, giggling and clinging on to each other as they make their way towards town.

Not knowing what else to do, I sat on the edge of the pier, watching the ocean deepen into black, thinking.

"I don't really have enough money for a room…but I guess I have enough for dinner tonight…"

Perhaps half an hour had past when I had enough of the cold, and made my way over to an emptier looking pub, ordering dinner and treating myself to a deserved whisky. I took my seat faraway in the corner of the room.

Tonight, one bartender worked along with two flirtatious waitresses, pattering in and out of the double doors leading to the kitchen. Adjacent to me, a group of four young men drank and joked, watching the football on the tv behind the bar, while one of them often remarked on the waitresses…physique. The waitress often would chuckle, assuming that she was paid to put up with crude comments.

Across the other side of the room were a few more patrons sat enjoying their meals with a friend or other company of sorts.

My eyes went back to the group of young men, who were becoming subtly louder with the extra alcohol pumping through their veins. I tried to listen in…

"80! EIGHT! ZERO? I thought we 'ad agreed 40?" The man speaking was began more distressed as he talked. "Fontaine expect-expects US? TO—"

"Will you be quiet" hushed the other one, gripping his shirt, holding back a laugh. Then in a more hushed voice, which I craned over to listen, "You know the man, he won't 'ave it any other way, unless it involves cutting us, instead of the pay."

"Enjoy what we 'ave!" a third one spoke, followed up by the fourth chipping in.

"We're the only ones in Rapture coming up to the surface like this. Best of the both world's mate."

"Best, huh? You sure about that?"

"Here's your meal ma'am, would that be all?" I was interrupted by one of the waitresses, eyeing me directly.

"No thanks, this will be all." I smiled politely. When she left, I listened in back on the conversation, but they had moved onto the sport on the tv. But at least I knew one thing. They were my ticket to Rapture.

Much later after the game finished did Fontaines men leave the pub. I left my tip on the table a few minutes after, stepping outside into the breeze, looking and listening for their trail. In the distance, I could see they had made their way to the other end of the docks. Walking in the shadows as best I could, I tip toed in their direction.

It appeared that they were boarding a small ship, already crammed with crates and sacks of who knows what. What could they be smuggling into Rapture? Somehow though, I'm going to have to get on board without being caught. There was only one obvious entrance, washed in yellow from the street light above. Too obvious.

Crouching behind a dumpster beside a closed cafe, I peered round, looking for another way. No ropes to climb, or crates left to be boarded that I could hide in…

I leaned out further to check the sides of the ship. Shadows concealed most details…but there! A porthole…open? It'll be a giant leap for someone of my height to reach…but it could work. Maybe.

I kept scanning a few minutes for any other routes in, and came up short.

Just as I was about to step out of the shadows, one of the men came out, untied the rope to the pier and used a crank to lift up the anchor. I panicked. My heart stopped for a second and the world span. I've got one shot. One shot. One. Only one.

I. Have. To. Get. This. RIGHT!

The minute the anchor was up, and the man shivered, pulling his coat around him and trudged back inside, I made a dash, only momentarily being in the light before diving into the shadowed pier. There I looked up at the porthole. When I thought 'open', I was hoping for more than a jar.

The ship lurched into movement, backing out of the docks slowly…but not slowly enough.

"Go!" I stepped back, and with all my strength, push all my weight towards the ship, pushing up from the pier, flying up. Reaching my arms out, stretching out my entire body, but soon after the leap, I was falling again. I breath in at the last second before managing to hook my hands on the rim of the porthole, swinging the rest of my body down and slamming into the side, knocking the breath right out of me. A painful shudder almost caused my fingers to flex as my whole body shock from the impact, but I had to hold tight.

After hanging for a minute or so, my stomach started churning, twisting and knotting. I felt like I was going to be sick. Using the slight curve of the ship, I pushed my body out, to make it easier to haul my body into the porthole at a more horizontal angle. My landing was anything but graceful. Head first crashing into a crate, then rolling off on the cold metal floor.

Head pounding, I slowly sat up and observed where I was. Stacks of crates marked with 'Fontaine Fisheries' surrounded the room, grey floors and a low ceiling stretched across. The room was decent in size and far on the other side of the room were stairs leading up.

I must be in the hold.

The crates around me all had lids nailed shut. I could break one open to hide in, but of course they would see the damage…

Looking around, there wasn't much else to see. Rope here, crowbar there. The stability lessened as thunder erupted from outside. Wind burst through the porthole till I stumbled over to it and slammed it shut. Waves grew, and the ocean flashed white, reflecting lightning I couldn't see at this angle.

Perhaps this storm could give me cover enough to sneak into a submarine used to access the city…But I had to get out of here, here, I am cornered, and as soon as they come in here to unload, I won't have any means of escape.

Making my way to the stairs, walking into half the crates along the way, I reached the top, gripping the rails, and tried the door.

Locked.

Typical. I made my way back to the porthole, and opened it, looking out. Above was another level before reaching the deck of the ship. No other open portholes, but if I could make my way to the top…I could hide in a lifeboat and wait.

"What do I have?"

Crouching down, lifting the rope and reaching for the crowbar, I put the two together. If I could throw this high enough, maybe this could work as a grappling hook, connecting to the rail at the top…

Getting up and climbing the crate once more, I leaned my whole upper body out, twisting it around, awkwardly facing upwards, feeling very insecure. I swung the crowbar, cowboy style, and let go, completely missing the target and having it land in the water behind me.

This time, doing the same thing again, expect swinging the crowbar the other way, towards the ship, I let go, and watched it go up, past the second floor and up past the railing, then it momentarily paused, before plummeting down. For a second I brought my arms up as I thought the crowbar was going to smack down into my face, screwing my close shut, and hearing a clang. I opened my eyes to see that it had landed on the top floor, and as I pulled the rope, it locked place around the railing.

The climb up was long and hard. My hands stung from rope burn and the cold, and the wind whipped my hair all over my face, blinding me. My grip nearly slipped as I heaved myself over the railing, and my footing was completely lost on deck, so instead of stepping over the railing, I face planted into the floor. Muffled laughter came from ahead and I snapped my head up. Straight in front of me was the bridge, and inside, leaning with his back against the glass was one of the men, beer in hand, shaking his head chuckling.

I swallowed, and quietly slipped across the deck, still on my stomach, away from the windows.

Only when I was behind the bridge and out of sight, did I allow myself to stop and think about my next move. My clothes stuck to me, soaked. I was shaking, and my hands stark white. Wind howled, and waves splashed up the side of the ship. The only light was from the bridge. Other than that, only a faint pale reflection of the moon allowed me to make out some shapes around me. From what I could tell, there was a giant cage used for fishing in front of me, nets and more crates, except filled with fish surrounded me, and above was some kind of…crane?

Looking back along the side, it was easier to see as the light from the bridge lit it up. And of course, right in front of the window was the life boat. A jolt of a wave knocked me down to my knees, and rain started to pour down. I crawled over to the edge of the window, stealing a brief glance. I couldn't tell what the men were crowded around, be it seem to preoccupy them, so I took that as my chance now. So, on my hands and knees I headed for the life boat. As I reached up to unlatch the tarp, a raised voice froze me.

"HEY! YOU!"

Slowly, I turned around. Guilt painted my face.


	4. Deal

Authors Note:

I've been pumping these first few chapters fast, as this is the beginning of the story where we are introduced to the circumstances our Charlie is under, but after this chapter, some feedback would be great.

Enjoy.

Chapter Four: Deal

"Put your hands up"

I obliged, knowing that 4 men against…well…me, I had no chance. I wasn't about to think I actually had a chance of escaping. Where could I go? So, with my hands above my head, and water dripping down into my eyes, blurring my vision, I barely saw the movements of one of the men approaching me and yanking me up to my feet and shoving me into the shelter of the bridge. But we didn't stop there. We went down the stairs, coming to a narrow corridor, turning left, right and left again into an office where a chair was brought out from behind the desk and I was told to sit, hands behind the back of the chair, where I was fastened with rope.

"Now, would ya be so kind as to tell us what a little thing like you is doing on our ship?" The man whom spoke paced back and forth. The other two stood either side of the door, and the fourth remain upstairs, steering the ship.

I look down at myself. Tied up and helpless. Droplets of water still dripped, splattering on the floor beside the chair.

"I know about Rapture."

"Yea, well 'ow would you know about that aye?"

"My father told me…and I wanted to see it for myself…"

"And who would be your father?"

"Dead."

"Well, that ain't going to help you, is it?" A warm but course hand cupped my face, jerking it up. "Who else knows you're 'ere?"

I yanked my face away, with difficulty. "Nobody. I came here alone."

"And now that we found you, what do you think we ought to do with ya?"

I didn't answer. Saying that I wanted them to dropped me off in Rapture and forget about this little meeting of ours, didn't seem like an answer that would be taken very seriously. So I looked back down, remaining silence.

"Nothing? You don't care? Well, I know that me and my mates 'ave been working very hard, and with a sweet, pretty runaway such as yourself…we could always use a little relief." At that I snapped my head up, glaring at them. "No? You don't like that. Well, 'ow about we make ourselves a deal?"

"What kind of…Deal?" The words barely come out, shaking from either the cold, or fear. My fate lies in their hands now. I have no control over the situation, and I can only hope they will let me pass through to Rapture.

"Lets see, you want into Rapture, yes?" I nodded. "And we be getting ourselves into a somewhat…tight lipped situation…" He continued to pace. "The security of our little business is threatened, meaning that due to the circumstances here, our pay checks ain't the only thing being cut…if you catch my drift…"

"What exactly…are you wanting me to do?"

"I want you to get rid of our evidence Sullivan has got on us, and get back our profits from Fontaine. Either that, or the sharks won't be hungry for another few days…"

Obviously not having a choice, I nodded. "Deal, but how do you expect me to do that?"

"All with time, lass. We'll talk more after we disembark. But you is going to be our little secret, and we'll be keeping an eye on you…"

After the men left, leaving one outside to guard the door, as if I could get out of these ropes, to unload the hold when we reach the location. I found that the more I did nothing, the more my aches and pains set in. My head pounded from countless knocks, knees cramped and muscles seized up.

The coolness of my still soaked clothes, seeped into my core, and exhaustion finally caught up. My head lulled off to the side, no longer finding the strength to hold it up. I rested my eyes.

I was escorted through a collection of caves, losing track of how many turns we had taken. Smuggled crates appeared to have the contents of: Bibles, Films, Cigars and of course, a wide selection of Booze.

"The fact that so many objects were made contraband left a huge market for illegally smuggled goods, that is where Fontaine's business comes in. People here never stop wanting, and so we never stopped smuggling." my escort explained.

"But some of these things…seem fine. Like the bible? Or films…?

"Andrew Ryan saw these as conflict to his values. Propaganda."

"And so he controls what the people here see and do?"

"Mmmm" he confirmed.

"But he's hot on your trail?"

"Yep, sent Chief of Security, Sullivan to investigate. Fontaine who started this, has a leash on every one of us, and has been pulling tighter by the minute. Men has disappeared, coming back dead a week later. We ain't allowed to quit, and we ain't allowed to tell."

"What if he finds out about me?"

"Then you, me, we're gone. Ain't no games around here, kid." We came to an opening in a wall, stepped through, revealing the opening of a frozen storage unit. Fish hung on hooks, crates of oysters and mussels stacked in the corner, and four giant freezers stood against the walls. The man walked ahead of me, hauling the freezer door open, allowing me to step inside. "Names Clinton." He smiled charmingly as he shut the door, following up behind me.

"Charlie." I responded, before stopping to see someone was already inside behind a shelf at the back of the containment. The figure stepped out of hiding, wrinkled face grinning at me, gapping teeth.

"Peach Wilkins. Now we all know each other's names, let's be talking business."

I shuffled on my feet, hands in pockets. My breath came out in great white plumes. The floor was iced over, as was the walls of the containment. Shelves held more crates, and tins of various seafood and the stench almost gagged me.

Wilkins beaconed me around the corner, where a makeshift clump of ice made for an uncomfortable seat. I sat down, careful not to slip, looking back up at the two men.

"First things first, lass. Do you understand what we will do to you if you do not…cooperate?" Wilkins wheezed at the end, perhaps from too many years of smoking.

I nodded.

"Good, because we're risking a lot. And I want to think as myself as a loyal follower of Fontaine, but you see, we all come down here, figured we'd all be part of Ryan's Great Chain. Turns out Ryan's chain is made of gold, and ours are the sort with the big iron ball around your ankle. Fontaine promised to free us from those chains, and instead, we've been locked in, with the key thrown away."

"So you want me to find the key?" I asked.

"No…But to loosen the chains, yes."

Peach went on the explain how Sullivan was holding files against most of Fontaine's employees including him and Clinton. Because of this, the chances of their 'disappearance' were great, could in fact happen any day now. All I had to do, was sneak into his office through the vents, as I was small enough to do so, grab the files, and burn them without being caught.

"How do I know where to go?"

"Sullivan's office serves as his interrogation room, its up in the Wharf Master's office."

"I'll take you halfway, but if I'm seen snooping" Clinton made a cut gesture across his throat.

So with nothing but the clothes on my back, and a small lighter given to me, I followed Clinton to the upper Wharf. As he left me, he smirked. I looked around.

Just like the docks…but inside. Wooden floors creaked. Conveyer belts lined one wall. More men walked back and forth, heaving large crates and instruments. Some stood at work tables, guttering and cleaning fish. A glass wall ahead showed the expanse of the ocean floor. Instantly drawn to it, I walked towards the glass. The deep blue. Far out, a school of fish went past, a critter crawled along the sand below, and to my amazement, a massive dark figure float gracefully by.

I was here. I was finally in Rapture. And I couldn't contain my smile.

"Hey, Kid! You ain't supposed to be down here." A hand came down on my shoulder, pulling me away from the view. I looked up, imagining how I looked. A child, pale and damp. Hair hanging limply and clothes tattered. I probably looked homeless. "Lets get you to security." He lead me with an iron grip on my arm, up some stairs, and through a barred gate. A sign ahead read:

WharfMaster's

Office

That was easy. I had to suppress a smirk as the man pulled me around the corner and through another barred gate. A couple of turns later, we reached a door in which the man pounded on. Moments later, that door slid open, and we approached an exhausted looking man. Circles under big round eyes. And thinning moustache above his lip, as well as thinning of the hair on his head. By the judge of his appearance, stress was eating him alive.

"What is it?" He glanced up at my capturer before eyeing me.

"Found this kid just standing round. Probably lost."

"Kid? That's no kid! That's a young lady and you would do your best to show some respect." Sullivan snapped at the man, looking back at me, with a softer, but impatient tone, he asked, "now young lady, civilians such as yourself should not wonder in here without an escort. What's your business?"

Think fast.

"I just wanted too… see how to fish were prepared for us…I was curious." Wow, what a great excuse. Play it dumb…

Sullivan looked to be smart enough to not buy it, but either he wasn't suspicious, or more likely, he didn't care, and replied. "Very well, next time, bring an escort, and as for you," he looked up and the man behind me, "escort her out."

The man shrugged and beckoned me follow him out of the fisheries. He left me in a great big glass tube. Seaweed and coral grew along side the edges and I couldn't help but marvel at the bright pigments. They swayed gently in the currents as if it was a breeze in the air. These were like the ocean trees, oxidising the water, feeding off the waste products of the secondary producers. I remember little of what I studied about the ocean, but I know that finding primary producers and photosynthetic species so low down was uncommon…but maybe because of Raptures presence, somehow we are able to sustain their lives down here, even in these depths.

Back down the tube, the door opened, and I looked to see Clinton walking directly at me. Not happy.

Putting my hands up in defence, I started "I know, I know. But what do you expect, sending in someone who doesn't know what they're doing or what this place is…"

"We already told ya! Use the vents!"

"Where?"

Clinton sighed. And pointed up. The ceiling of the tube had a metal strip running down it, lights dotting across it.

"Oh." I stated dumbfound.

"I gotta go, but if I find myself coming one more time, it won't be for a warning. I like ya kid, don't change that." I nodded, and watched him retreat.

Now to find an entrance to this vent, and get this over and done with.


	5. Exploring

Chapter Five: Exploring

Following the vent away from the fisheries, coming out of the tube to an opening. Ahead was a Bathysphere Station. I turned in a circle, looking for an opening to the vent. And of course, up out of reach was the mesh covered entrance. A crate sat in the far corner, so, hoping nobody would walk in on me, I hauled crate across the floor, changing directions to push it firmly in place against the wall under the vent.

Two screws held the bottom in place, while the top was hinged. I used my Swiss knife the unscrew it, placing the screws in my pocket, and jumped up into the vent, using my forearms to heave myself in.

It was big enough for me to easily slide in, but I could not crawl on my knees. Instead I had to army crawl through.

The air inside was dry, crisp and chilled. Goosebumps covered my arms, but I did not shiver. The crawl took a solid five minutes just to travel the length of the tube and reach the fisheries. From there, there was another opening to the vent, and a pathway either side of it. Left or right. At least knowing some the of area now, I took the right.

At one point I had to back track, as I had reached a dead end with a fan at the end. I couldn't quite turn my body around, so I ended up wriggling my body backwards.

When I did reach Sullivan's office, I peered inside. He was still there. Now what? The clock on the wall told me it was mid morning…it would be a while till his lunch break, but with nothing better to do, I watched and waited.

Sullivan, at his deck, scribbled notes, emptied files on top of files, ran his hands through his hair and sighed often. He had a habit of tapping his foot, impatience growing when he back tracked, looking at photos and documents he had already examined thoroughly. The wall next to him was mostly glass, peering into white tiled room, a solitary chair…with straps…sat in the centre. Probably his 'interrogation' room.

Eventually he shed his tweed coat, got up and span around to face his giant pin board behind him, littered with photos, string connecting them and notes. Lots of notes. I couldn't read any from up here, but I could see a newspaper cutting of what appeared to be the opening of Fontaine Fisheries.

Another thing that caught my eye, was that where peoples faces should be, red marker ran through them repeatedly, as if drawn in a rage. I recalled when Clinton told me that people would often disappear, turning up dead a week later. Looks like Sullivan isn't the one responsible for those men's fates.

One thing I didn't understand, was the word:

SPLICERS

I could read the words clearly as it took up most of the upper left hand corner. But…what does it mean? Was it a gang? A code word for something.

Sullivan was writing in another small note, stopping and looked over the board. Then his office phone rang.

"Yes." He nodded followed by a frown as he listened. "But sir…no? Are you positive that this is what you want? Very well…" His trembling hand placed the phone back down on the receiver, but remained on the phone. His other hand came up to his face, pinching the bridge his nose before coming back down. As he reached for his coat, he opened his desk draw, bringing out a silver pistol. What was he going to do? Whoever rang, wanted someone dead, but Sullivan didn't look to be a willing, but what if he said no. What would his consequences be?

After his exit, I slid out of the vent, rolling to the floor before standing back up and approached the desk. As far as I could tell, all of it was to do with the smugglers case. I pulled out the lighter, and stacked all the sheets of evidence together. As I lit the corner, a pang of guilt struck me. Sullivan was doing a job with Andrew Ryan breathing down his neck…and smuggling is technically illegal.

Fire danced before me, engulfing the whole stack. My deed is done.

I returned to the vent, wriggling back to the main part of the fisheries, and taking a new route, which I hope would lead me to the freezer.

When I got there, I looked to find Peach talking to one of the workers, then whacking his helmet with a wrench to send him on his way.

"Umm…" I tapped the back of his shoulder. He turned, an unpleasant look on his face. "Done…"

"Don't you bloody know anything about being discrete. Go! I don't want to see you here again, and watch your back. You're as safe as us now, which isn't a good thing." He started to turn around before turning back for one more message, "and thanks kid, you really helped us." Peach walked away, and I quickly scampered back into the vents to the Bathysphere.

I had no idea where to go. From what I could tell, up was the only direction, but how far up? One level? Five levels? Most of the names of each level told me nothing. Apparently I was on Neptune's Bounty. There were heaps of places I could go. After scanning the list twice over, I decided on the destination 'Farmers market". Maybe there I can find someone who can tell me about Rapture.

As the door open, fresh sweet air flooded in. A gorgeous sight of open grass, blooming trees, streams and families. Families with dogs and children laughing and running around. It looked like paradise. The grass was spongy, which was a strange sensation in itself to walk on and when I reached a thin stream of water, I peered in to see little fish. Some were gold fish, some were Siamese fighting fish and others were of breeds I didn't know. Over the bridge and through the doors, I reached the market, bustling with business. People we haggling and carrying baskets full of fresh groceries.

Submerging myself in the crowds, I could smell the cooking a something delicious, and the baking of something savoury. My stomach churned. When was the last time I ate? Back on the surface, but that was over 12 hours ago now…

"Miss, how would you like one of our lovely, heated savoury scone?" I turned to a elderly man, glasses sitting on his nose and a grey hat atop his head. He smiled kindly, warmth in his eyes.

On cue, my stomach groaned again, and I could only hope that he couldn't hear it over the noise of the market. I searched my pockets for any change I managed to save from my last meal. I pulled out the remaining pound. Looking back at the man, I smiled weakly. "I don't suppose this is the right currency…or amount?"

He took a second to examine it, and shook his head sympathetically, as I was about to turn and walk away he stopped me. "But please, you look like you could use this." And to prevent me from declining, he placed the scone in my hand.

"Th-thank you sir."

"It's my pleasure! And welcome to Rapture!" That made me laugh, I guess now, I've got tourist written all over me. I thanked him again, and went on to explore further.

The scones warmth hit me in the right spot. It almost made my eyes water purely because it tasted so good. Every last crumb was devoured and I licked my fingers, savouring the taste.

At one point I had reached the Arcadia, a open park full of the most lush and green forestries I had ever seen. The sweet smell was intoxicating, dragging my further in. The atmosphere was dense, and it eloped me. Never have I felt so at peace. It was so relaxing, so calming. Others walked round aimlessly, as I found myself doing too.

It was as if something in the atmosphere was causing this.

Realising this, I shook myself out of the trance. The feeling still numbed me, but I looked around, no longer know where I was. Foliage surrounded me, bright flowers of pinks, blues, oranges and reds appeared larger than ever, and the fainted sound of something being spray caught my attention. I turned sharply towards it, almost losing balance, to see a purple cloud disperse into the air.

So they were drugging us!

I didn't know whether to be alarmed or not. But that might just be because I am under the influence. Slowly, I went to find my way out. As I past through the exit, I couldn't help but over hear a man and a women talking.

"Have you been in there! I don't think the effects have ever been this strong…"

"No I haven't been in there and I don't intend too. I'll have to fix the formula."

Were they scientists? Did they do this? At least I know that it wasn't meant to be that intense…

I had followed a family who I over heard them talking about going to some theatre performance. This'll be my only lead to Jenny, maybe she's being escorted to a show, it seems fitting. If not, I don't know where she'll be.

This performance was in a place called; Fort Frolic. Decorated in neon lights, tall decorated columns, and checkerboard tiles across the floor. As I walked through, the PA announced:

"Being the best at what you do can really take it out on you. So unwind! At Fort Frolic: gamble, shop, take in a show or meet a new friend, all at Fort Frolic. Fort Frolic: where the best and brightest celebrate success."

All around me, the people were dressed in expensive clothes, smoking cigars and drinking champagne. I felt out of place in my dirty tattered outfit, but as I walked through, nobody seemed to give me even the slightest glance. Oblivious to my presence.

A clock on the wall told me it was after work hours, explaining why it was so busy.

When I had reached upstairs, I found a steady stream of people heading into the 'Fleet Hall'. I followed, but seeing that up ahead there were ticket booths, I realised I wasn't going to get very far, and still I hadn't seen Jenny.

But of course… the vents. Here, the vents were hidden in the walls and ceiling, making it harder to track to an opening I could get into, but finding the privacy in a bathroom, I repeated the process of unscrewing and opening the vent, and jumping in.

By the time I found my way into the theatre, the show had already started. I didn't recognise it either. Probably a Rapture original.

I scanned the audience, and when I almost gave up, I saw Jenny, dressed unlike herself, in a rather nice satin dress, jewels sparkling from her hands and neck, hair curled and done up. It was rather elegant. Beside her was someone I didn't recognise, but I could tell they came together from the occasional commentary they whispered to each other, perhaps analysing the performance.

Somehow, I was going to have to talk to her after the show, but would she want to see me like this, out in public. What if she has an image to protect now…but could Jenny be so shallow?

Nah…we've been friends since we were young children! And always has she been the energised bubbly self.

I enjoyed what I could see of the show from the angle from the wall adjacent to the stage, and when the finale began, I made my way out to wait for Jenny by the entrance.


	6. OhWhyHello Sir

Chapter Six: Oh…Why…Hello Sir

Jenny and her escort were one of the last to leave, their arms hooked, deep in conversation, I approached them shyly.

When Jenny moved her gaze away from the man she was with and towards me, I thought for a second she was going to scream, fortunately only releasing a squeal and running to hug me.

"CHARLIE! It's so GOOD to see you! How was the journey, where are you staying, when did you get here?" I smiled as she went on. "…oh and um, sorry" She said turning to her escort. "Charlie, meet Sander Cohen, Mr Cohen, meet my dearest friend, Charlie."

I went forward to shake his hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr Cohen."

He glanced at my hand briefly before reaching over and shaking my hand, weakly. "Yes, and it is…a wonder to meet you also…"

His message didn't reach his eyes, let alone his tone in his voice. This was getting awkward, perhaps I should go…

"Oh Charlie, we have so much to catch up on, I'll show you my apartment! You can stay the night too! Mr Cohen, the evening was terrific and I'm excited to see your play tomorrow!" Jenny babbled on, in way, sending Mr Cohen on his way.

"I'm happy you enjoyed your evening, as did I. I shall have a seat reserved for you next to Mr Ryan."

The two farewelled each other, and Jenny took my hand, taking me to her apartment Athena's Glory, in Olympus Heights.

"Wow"

Polished dark wood covered the floors, we headed into the open living space. Large sofas sat around a glass table. Thick velvet curtains framed either side of the windows, showing the expanse of the city from the great height we were at. I marvelled at the luxury.

"I know." I turned to Jenny, a big grin across her face.

"This is huge."

"I know."

"Expensive."

"I know."

"And it's YOURS"

"I KNOW!"

We stared at each other briefly before bursting out into laughter. Tears formed in my eyes. I was laughing so hard it almost hurt.

It took a few minutes to calm down. The whole situation was so surreal. It was hard to believe.

We raided her fridge, taking fancy wines out and making ourselves dessert before retiring to the living room for some gossip. I told her about my adventure here, but decidedly leaving out the part where I burned evidence for the smugglers in fear of being overheard and when I reached the part about the garden, Jenny explained.

"The Arcadia is supposed to do that! Its to calm people, make them feel better. It's for relief. Some people need that when they're at the bottom of the world, you know."

"Okay then…then what does the word 'Splicer' mean?" I questioned, thinking back to what I saw in Sullivan's office.

"I think thats someone that uses excessive amounts of ADAM. You know what ADAM is?" I shook my head. "ADAM is a substance used to genetically enhance yourself." I raised my eyebrow. That was pretty advanced stuff. "It's rather expensive though, and too much splicing can damage you, causing mutation and scarring. Us actors are advised to never use the stuff."

"Where do you get it from?"

Jenny shrugged, "Beats me, but I don't think you should go looking for it. There's been the odd case where people going completely mental for the stuff. Kinda scary…anyway, you don't have a place to stay do you…you could stay here with me. Also, you should shower. I can get you some of my clothes to wear, I got a whole new wardrobe."

Rolling my eyes I followed her into her room, and then into her very large wardrobe room.

Everything looked so fancy with so many silk dresses and fur coats, it was nice. "Do you have any pants and shirts instead?"

"Only what I brought from the surface. You can have them if you like, I don't think I'll even be needing them now." She showed me to the draw that held them, and as I rummaged around, I commented on her wealth, "You won't let it all go to your head now, will you?"

"What do you mean?"

"All the fame, money…you could have anything you want at this rate, but that doesn't mean you will…right?"

"Charlie…be happy for me"

"I am! I am, I just don't want you to become something you're not. Someone nasty, selfish, arrogant, judgmen—"

"Ok I get it! And no, I wouldn't ever." Jenny smile, sweetly and sincerely. Right now at least, Jenny is Jenny, and it was good to have her right now.

I gathered the clothes I wanted and a pair of pyjamas for tonight and hopped into the shower, and if that wasn't the best shower in the world, I don't know what is.

After that, we continue our conversation about Jenny's journey.

At arrival, she was escorted by Ryan, and given the tour. After being taken to her apartment, she apparently had all these nice clothes waiting for her, and later had dinner Ryan, Diana and Cohen.

She has already meet most of the theatre community at a lunch earlier today and talked further about her future projects under Cohen she was going to take on.

"But as incredible as it has been, I haven't really had a lot of time to take it all in. But I'm glad you're here with me."

On the tv, we watched some cheesy movie before eventually falling asleep on the couch, tv still on.

The following morning, Jenny was booked up with appointments and had to start working on choreography for a musical coming out in a few weeks. I wished her lunch and we went out separate ways.

My schedule purely involved with getting a job. Rapture was a place where you had to earn your right to have things such as food and a place to call home, although due to social status, some people get more ahead than others. Jenny was near the top of the food chain, I was at the bottom.

As I passed several stores, occasional going into one looking for work, only to be turned down each time, I heard some commotion and yelling.

"Who was that? Where did they go!" Yelled one man.

A boy, about my age came speeding around the corner, slamming into me. I fell to the ground, angered, I snapped. "Hey kid! You better watch where you're bloody going!"

He looked at me, and hastily got up and pulled me up by the hand. "Sorry sweet cheeks, bad day." He pulled away, running off the way he was initially going. I look down at the hand moments ago he held.

My eyes widened when I realise what he had done.

Shit.

I was tackled to the ground.

24 hours, and I was behind bars.

"Are…you…KIDDING ME!" I shook the bars, metal clanging against metal.

Electrical discharge shot out of the guards finger tips, a sharp twisting pain ran up and down my spine, like a thousand needles, my legs failing underneath me. What the hell?

"You like that? No? Then shut it!" He spit at me as I lay crumpled on the ground.

The boy who ran into me was running from security. He had stolen a diamond ring, knowing he was seconds away from being caught, he gave it too me.

Bastard! I wanted struggle him. If I ever got out of here.

I managed to get my strength back, stood up and leaned on the bars for support, breathing heavily, talking to the guard.

"Sir, please…I don't belong here…"

He scoffed, "like we haven't heard that one before."

"I was framed. I didn't steal it. There was a boy, he ran into me an—"

"Save it, kid." He threatened, sparks coming out of his hand and he gestured towards me.

What more could I do? Wait for another guard that wouldn't shock me, and persuade him. Who was in charge around here? I looked around for vents, there wasn't any, but I wouldn't be able to open them anyway. I had been stripped at put in some oversized striped pyjamas.

How long had passed? One hour? Five hours? I had been pacing back and forth for a while until I grew dizzy. Then I tried sleeping if off, but how could I?

The guards shifts had changed at one point, and the new guard was not much better than the first. At least he didn't shock me.

I heard a door open at the end of the line of cells, unable to see who had entered, but I could hear as they approached.

"—safe for testing?"

An incredibly strong southern accent replied, "Why of course, but these guys are going to cost. Let's talk numbers, chief."

The two men came into view, both in suits. I took my chance. 'Talk numbers' this had to be someone in charge.

"Hey! Sir! Come over here…" The men turned around, expressions showing a cross between disturbance and annoyance. One man had a slight hunch, a trimmed moustache and a comb over. His eyes were darken with either the lack of sleep, or from too much stress…or probably both. The other stood up straighter, hair was a dark brown and combed nicely back. Eyes looking straight back into mine, blood rushed to my cheeks, momentarily forgetting what I wanted to say.

"Oh…Why…Hello Sir" Stupid I yelled in my head. I scratched my arm nervously. "Sorry…but, are—are…you" I stumbled over my words as he raised an eyebrow, impatience showing in his stance. "Are you…in charge?"

His reply was slow as he stretched out the word. "Yes…?"

"Good" I clapped my hands and clasped them together to stop any nervous tremors. "You need to get me out of here."

He stepped towards the cell, a smirk forming on his lips. "And why would I do that now?"

"Because…I didn't do anything!" I insisted. My palms were sweating.

The man came closer, then reaching out he pulled out a clipboard beside my cell. Flicking through it, he looked back at me. "I don't think so sport. You call stealing diamond rings nothing? I call it thievery."

"No…no, that wasn't me. Please let me explain." My heart skipped when he nodded. Someone that will listen! "I was walking along, when I heard the commotion, before I knew it, someone run into me from around the corner, he put the ring in my hand before running off again. I understand when they saw me with it they put two and two together, but please! There has to be some security footage or a witness…"

He sighed, glancing at the clipboard before placing it back. "Alright, Miss Sage. I'll have someone look into it, but for now, I have some business to attend to if you don't mind…"He gave me a sympathetic look, "hang in there ma'am, we'll get you out as soon as we can."

I nodded and watched him escort the other man out.

Moments later, a guard came in, stopping at my cell. "Miss Sage, Mr Sinclair has instructed that you be taken somewhere more comfortable while you wait."

I followed to guard.

So…Mr Sinclair. That was his name. I certainly owe 'Mr Sinclair'. I doubt he does this very often for prisoners.

I'll have to thank him sincerely.


	7. Image is Everything

Chapter Seven: Image is Everything

I was brought into a plain room, yellow walls, no windows, but there was a sofa and there was a bed. The door to a private bathroom was tucked away in the corner, and a heater bolted against the wall gave out steady heat. This room, though better than a the previous metal cage I was locked in, was still just another cell…though I'm not entirely sure why this one is so nice if it was for prisoner. It had been about maybe three hours but I couldn't be sure, guards had checked on me to see I was alright, one even brought a radio in which cheered me up a little.

I hope Jenny doesn't worry about not hearing from me. She ought to be home soon if not already. It would be nice to have the clothes she gave me back also, but as my innocence had not been proven yet, I guess I was to still be treated as a prisoner…to an extend. I wonder if this happens often. I mean, people being arrested mistakingly, and how many are as lucky as me to be given a second chance.

Maybe it was for looks, and because I had interrupted Mr Sinclair during some kind of business, and he decided to give me false hope to look good in front of whoever the other man was. Would I really just going to get thrown back into prison?

I couldn't keep thinking of that, it made me feel dreary and hopeless. Nothing that had happened had been in my control. Except leaving home and coming here.

What if I stayed? I would go to University, be alone, have to get a job and pay rent, and therefore have no social life. Eventually when I graduate, I might not even have a stable job. How was I supposed to know if what I was studying, was going to lead me to a career that would actually exist.

And mum…would she come back? Ever? What would she think if she did return, to find the apartment had different tenants. Tears stung my eyes and I wiped off a stray droplet rolling down my cheek

…and dad…

No, not now, I could not think of him now of all times!

Snuffing, I listened back to the radio, undoubtedly regulated by Ryan.

"What's the matter, Frank?"

"It's this thinning hair, Jim! Every day there's less and less."

"You know the problem's not in your hair, it's in your genes."

"Hey, I don't go in for all that splicing stuff, my buddy says it's not safe."

"Shows you what your buddy knows. Go over to Genetic Horizons for a trial of Fresh Hair. Fresh Hair not only gives you a full head of thick hair, but it's 100% safe."

"Full head of hair? And 100% safe?! Maybe it's time for me to get a little Fresh Hair!"

A song followed after the ad, and the door behind me opened, without a single knock.

"I truly apologise for this inconvenience ma'am, but before we let you go, a few questions are in order, do you mind if I record your responses?" I turned to see another guard of sorts…or maybe a detective. I shook my head and allowed him to sit beside me.

The interview consisted of stating my business in town, descriptions of the true thief, background information on me, which I struggled most with, hoping he wouldn't ask how I came to Rapture. Now that might get my locked up for good.

After the interview, the man got up, and left saying it won't be long till I find out my fate.

At least he wasn't wrong about that. I was just about fed up with all that waiting.

When finally there was a knock at the door before it opened, I was relieved to see Mr Sinclair coming in.

"Well, Miss Sage. What a grave mistake we have made bringing you in here. I'm terribly sorry, and not only will you be given all your property back, but I since I heard what your business was in town today, I would like to offer you a job. The name's Augustus Sinclair."

I stood up respectably, "Um…Charlie, and really? That would be great! But…why?"

Without answering my question, I watched Mr Sinclair waltz over and sat comfortably on the sofa while I was perched on the edge of the bed. His tie had been loosen, and the days work was showing, the wrinkling in his shirt, hair must have had hands combing through it many times but he remain composed and mannered. "Now, the position I am offering you is going to require you to be comfortable using charismatic charms," he started, I raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious and already preparing to turn down, he chuckled. "No, darling, not like that. I'm talking about working at my latest business; a bar, 'Sinclair Spirits'. For now it is just the one bar in Fort Frolic to milk out of Raptures population, and I have yet to find a manager."

"Manager? I don't think I would remotely be qualified for that Mr Sinclair."

"Don't worry about that, I look after all of my assets, and you will be taken well cared for. You'll have your own staff and will have to manage them, along with stock and…well it's very self-explanatory. I am a certain someone such as yourself would thoroughly enjoy the pay check… What do you say, Miss Sage?"

It really didn't take much consideration for me to answer. I wasn't having much luck before being arrested, and who knows if I could get another job which promised a decent pay…

We shook hands, and Mr Sinclair held out his arm, escorting me to his office where I was able to get changed and freshen up in the privacy.

When I came out, Mr Sinclair had a contract agreement waiting for me to sign. He leaned back in his chair, raising his eyebrow as I read over the details carefully, but said nothing.

The contract stated some pretty weird things. The weirdest was about my living arrangements.

"Employees of Augustus Sinclair must allow access into their homes and be willing to use their home for business purposes at anytime?" I scowled, looking up at Mr Sinclair.

"We of course wouldn't simply barge into one's home, we would gave you some warning prior." He stated simply. I was not ok with people using Jenny's home for their 'business purposes'.

"I don't have a home."

Now it was Mr Sinclair's turned to scowl. "Where are you staying then?"

"A friends, but you're not going to be bringing her in this business at all." I replied, being firm about it, but also sounding somewhat childish. But it would not be fair on her and I had to make that clear.

"Then I'll just have to get you a home don't I?" He smirked. "How does Olympus Heights sound? Mercury Suites? Would actually work very well for me…"

"What? And that's far too expensive, I would never afford it…"

"Miss Sage, like I have said before, I look after my assets…and on another note…as an addition to our contract agreement…I can't have you talking about your time in Persephone. You don't know this place and you have never heard of it…understood?" Mr Sinclair eyed me as he went for a cigar. I nodded. "Now, do we have ourselves a deal?" He gestured to the contract. I sighed and reached over his desk, reaching for a pen, and without giving it another thought, I signed.

A phone call later, and a room in Mercury Suites is ready for me. Mr Sinclair, being a gentleman, held out his arm, and escorted me to my new home.

In the Bathysphere I asked, "Do you live nearby?"

"Of course, but on a much higher level than you will be. Thought I'd at least give a lady her privacy." The circumstance of the situation still bothered me, especially the part about being quiet about Persephone…So, taking a deep breath, I decided to stick my nose in to find out why.

"And…you're only doing this to protect Persephone?…"

A stern expressed washed over his face and he leaned forward, voice taking a new tone of perhaps anger? "Now you're stepping into my territory. I don't want to have to put my fist down on you, and I'm doing everything I can, but you need to cooperate. Not another word about it. You'll live in a respectable place, working in a position under my name. Fit the part in the machine, or you'll get replaced."

That was all I needed to hear. The cold hard truth. Business. That's all it was.

We didn't speak another word the rest of the way up. I could guess what would happen if I decide now I didn't want any part in his business.

The size of the apartment shocked me, even after seeing Jenny's. This was probably equal in size, though the view I had was from a lower point of view, seeing less of the city but being able to spy on a glass tube to see people walking one way or the other. But I was still in a sour mood, making it harder to appreciate.

Mr Sinclair made told me my fridge is already stocked, and that I am to see him 10 in the morning sharp in his office, leaving shortly afterwards.

After exploring more, finding my bedroom, opening all the empty draws and wardrobe, I gasped. Jenny! I have to tell her everything…but how? I'll have to leave out the part where I was arrested and behind bars…which is most of my day…but telling her about my job offer was alright? Do I mention Mr Sinclair's name? Maybe…

I decided instead to ring over visiting, calling the operator for the number, and heading Jenny's concerned reply, I told her I had a place to stay, and would update her later, and to her annoyance she obliged.

The apartment was lonely, I left the tv on while had a relaxing warm bath before going to bed. The background sound a the tv gave me a small amount of comfort as I slept.

I felt like such a stupid, silly girl, thinking initially Mr Sinclair was doing this out of the goodness of his heart, but now, my future was in HIS hands, all I have to do is cooperate. I'm sick of not having control.

Somehow, I'm going to have to gain leverage over him, take control…


	8. Fair Lady

Authors Note:

I see you guys reading this! Give me input! I'm not going for a great piece of work, just something to express my love for Augustus Sinclair! Go on! Comment on how much you adore him too! Do it!

Chapter Eight: Fair Lady

Getting up from my deep slumber made me feel much more refreshed. My muscles were completely relaxed, and despite the odd bump and bruise from my journey here, aches were almost non-existent. Almost.

I opted for cereal for breakfast as I didn't have very much time before having to visit Mr Sinclair. I downed the remaining milk in my bowl, and dressed in the same attire as yesterday…I have to go shopping sometime this week when I get my first pay…

When I was outside the office, making a beeline for the door, the secretary interrupted, asking if I had an appointment. Her nose was turned up at me, sitting behind the desk with a typewriter in front of her. She had fluffy blond hair and looked dolled up with makeup. Her blouse cut low, emphasising her already large chest. Must be how Mr Sinclair likes his secretaries. I almost rolled my eyes at her, but stopping instead smile politely, confirming an appointment before entering the room.

Mr Sinclair was busy with a stack of papers and was on the phone. He gestured towards a chair for me to wait in while he finished up with his call. I didn't really catch the topic of conversation, something to do with productions of toys though and needing them in stock fast. He hung up and turned to me.

"Sorry about that…" He adjusted his tie which he must've loosen during the phone call.

I asked, "Good phone call or bad phone call?" Hoping to find out more about him and his businesses.

He opened his mouth ready to answer, but then closed his mouth quickly and smirked, realising what I was doing. Shaking his head he replied, "You almost had your way there, but I won't spill the beans that easily."

"Oh, so it is possible. Mmm I wonder what it would take…" A smile played on my lips and I leaned forward.

"I think we should start talking business…"

"But that's exactly what we're doing" I cut in.

"Not OUR business. Now, unfortunately I have had to move some appointments around, and I no longer have time to take you to the bar today, unless you're wanting to check it out alone…?"

"Or after work hours? I wouldn't even know where to go, I barely knew how I get here." I reasoned.

"How long have you been in Rapture Miss Sage?"

"A couple of days."

A surprised look crossed his face. "Well perhaps you could use a tour. I'll show you around and we can grab a bite to eat while we're out tonight…and maybe I can get a more complete picture of who you are."

"You saying you always treat your employees before interrogating them?"

He chuckled. "Not often is it an 'interrogation' as it is an interview, which is exactly what you'll be doing very soon. I have had Belinda, the secretary you walked past, to write up a wanted for hire position under your name in the papers. Expect resumes coming through your pneumo soon. I want you to open in a week. Hire your cutest interviewees. Looks pay."

"Hmmm" I thought, "so…you want cute like your secretary?"

A playful smirk played on his lips, "If you can. Plenty of men would come round just to see something like that standing round." I rolled my eyes. "Of course I'll have security each night for you, that'll be under me."

"So do you own all of the security or just Persephone's?" I tried.

"What did you say?" His smirk was gone, but his eyes still showed a glint of amusement.

"Say what?"

"You know what you said."

"I do? What was it about? I don't think I remember…"

"I recon if you think really…" He emphasised, "hard…you might just remember."

"Hmm" I thought aloud, "I don't know…I've got a lot of other things to remember, perhaps if you jog my memory…tell me something about it…"

Mr Sinclair seemed to have cracked, chuckling which soon turned a laugh.

Still playing along, I asked while grinning slyly, "Are you quite alright, Mr Sinclair?"

The phone suddenly rang, and the still smiling man, he picked up before telling the person on the other end to hold on.

"I'll pick you up at seven. Also go to the 'Refine Devine' and give them my name." He winked, before going back to the phone.

'Refine Devine'…what could that be. And where?

I asked 'Belinda the secretary' where I could find it, in which she snorted before telling me the location. I was surprised when I arrived, walking into a bright glossy room. Shiny marble floors, glass sculptures, tall mirrors and pillars accessorised with gems. I felt like I had to pay just to walk in. And what did they sell?

The finest most expensive dresses I had ever seen in my life.

A lady approached me, heels clicking as she walked.

"May I…" She paused ever so briefly as she took the sight of me in, and smiling like she didn't notice anything, "…help you?"

"Um, yes, uh, Augustus Sinclair sent me?" I questioned, unsure of myself.

The lady's expression lit up, as it would when you complete a puzzle or riddle you struggled with, "Ah yes, follow me, Miss Sage, is it?" I nodded, confirming my name, and followed behind her silently in my comfortable rubber-soled shoes, feeling slightly offended by the ladies attitude towards me.

She took me into a back room and had me stand on a platform in the middle, mirrors surrounding us. The lady pulled out a measuring tape and proceeded to take my measurements.

"Do you know what this is for…" I asked slowly.

"Mr Sinclair has ordered us to make a few dresses for you, one to be finished for tonight…" She sighed, probably about the short notice, which I didn't blame her for.

"Is that enough time?"

"It's tight, but not impossible, I'm afraid your dress is not going to be too elaborate,"

"Don't worry about that…I don't really need anything fancy." I wasn't sure if I even needed this to be honest.

After taking my measurements, we looked over a catalogue of designs, asking things like what I would be comfortable in, and what would most compliment my figure and so on.

By the time I left, about an hour had past, and she instructed that the dress would be done by five.

I went home for lunch, and found that not only was there two resumes in my pneumo, but also an envelope with cash and a small note inside:

First payment for your first day consisting of

$900. Weekly payments will consist of

$6,000.

-Augustus Sinclair.

I almost dropped the enveloped when I read this. This is a lot of money! A lot! I was horrified. What was I supposed to do with it? Never have I had that much money in my life, and now I'll be earning it every week. I couldn't look at it any longer, so I hastily stashed it away in the draw, and looked over the resumes for a distraction. They were pretty standard, nothing stood out really. I'll wait another day or so before I organise some interviews.

The time was 3o'clock when I decided I had too much time to kill, and left to explore more. Before leaving, I paused by the door, the thought of all the money I had hidden less than a metre away, and decided to quickly grabbed a few notes from my payment, stuffing it into my pocket as if I was stealing something that didn't belong to me. I certainly didn't deserve it. I hadn't done anything yet, and was managing a bar even worth that much?

It took me a very long time before I bought anything with the money. I bought things I thought were appropriate for tonight, such as make up, which I couldn't not wear while being clothed in a dress still worth more than my pay. Accompanying the makeup for tonight, I bought some black heels, not very high ones, but high enough I could still walk. I didn't know if I need to buy anything else for tonight or not, I didn't even know what I was going to be wearing, and the shoes were hard enough to buy blind, so I left it at that, aside from some toiletries and pyjamas. I would do more another day if I felt like it.

It was an hour and a half until Mr Sinclair was to pick me up. I had retrieved my dress and return back to my apartment, nerves getting the better of me.

When I had seen the dress, it was hard to smile and say I liked it, not because I didn't like it, but because it was for me. I could imagine a fair lady wearing it…but me? I was no fair lady! That was for sure.

It was simple like I was foretold, and a deep twilight blue giving off a slight sheen in the light as it was made of pure silk. Pure silk! The cut was modest like I ask, covering up my chest and forming into straps going around my neck, much like a modernised greek style.

I showered before putting the dress on. It fitted so well too, but when I look in the mirror, I didn't see Charlie. Maybe a 'Miss Sage' which everyone seem to call me, but not a Charlie that Jenny calls me. Not the Charlie who would call eating meat other than chicken 'fine dining' and stayed up late watch cheesy horror films, mocking the characters. 'Miss Sage' was indeed a fair lady…to be.

With a light dusting of makeup and sorting out my hair as best I could, I admired my work. In the bathroom mirror and almost lost my balance when the door bell sounded, and I snapped my head to the clock. Where had all the time gone?

I opened the door slowly to reveal a polished Mr Sinclair, though still technically wearing the same attire as earlier, side from maybe a new shirt, his hair had been combed and parted off to the side, his tie had been retied and as I stepped out of the apartment towards him, I could smell a soft hint of cologne.

Mr Sinclair's eyes on me sent blood straight to my face, and I only hoped the my foundation was enough to hide it.

"My, my. You do tidy up, very…very nicely." He smiled, and for a second I thought he was being sleazy but his expression didn't seem creepy enough. But still…

"You seem surprised?" I inquired suspiciously, there was no humour in my tone.

"Well, I see someone isn't used to getting a compliment. I'll just have to keep slipping them in until you're used to them." Mr Sinclair held out his arm for me to take, and reluctantly I took it.

We took a Bathysphere to a few distinctions, and walked to most others. It was pleasant this time of night, quiet and empty. Children apparently had curfew at six in the evening until the age of 16. This allowed families to have quality time together, and of course the adults to have time to themselves. I learned where the orphanage was and the odd thing about Andrew Ryan and all the things one could do in Rapture, but nothing on any businesses involving Mr Sinclair. He choose his words carefully, and as did I. Any personal questions I diverted, some well, some terribly obvious. I knew Mr Sinclair could see what I was doing, but that was no longer the point. The longer he stays closed off to me, the longer I'll just have to do the same. It's not like I had much to say about myself, but he doesn't know that.

We stopped at the 'Kashmir Restaurant' taking our seats tucked off to the side. Other men and women dressed equally nice as me, or nicer, ate, exchanging small talk with their partners. When the waitress came along with menus, Mr Sinclair turned them down, and ordered off the top of his head, for both him and I, along with an expensive sounding wine.

"Been here much then?" I questioned, smirking a little.

"What gave it anyway?" And our banter began.

"Oh let me think, perhaps its was you ordering like you've only ever eaten one thing in your life here, or perhaps the way the waitresses eyes lighting up when she saw you…guessing you've been here enough to be acquainted." I teased. Technically making up the part about the waitress

"The waitresses eyes lit up?"

"Mmmm maybe, or perhaps she just got something out of her eye…" Did that even make sense?

"Or perhaps something was in yours?" He leaned back.

"Maybe with all of your businesses, you just must be famous."

"I would find that hard to believe."

"Really? Because I disagree."

"Augustus Sinclair owns many businesses, but whose to say I'm Augustus Sinclair."

I thought about this for a second too long and he beat me to a response.

"I got you there didn't I?"

"Well, if to say you weren't Mr Sinclair, and since I have no proof you are, then I suppose you might know Mr Sinclair well?"

"Don't know the man."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then I suppose I should go to find him…" I was readied myself to get up, "…I believe I have to meet up with him soon, it's a pity you're not him…"

"So you're not interested in getting to know the man who has ordered you dinner?"

"Oh I don't know…Can you tell me about Mr Sinclair?"

He paused, thinking, a sly smile still on his lips from our game.

"Oh perhaps I can tell you a little…" I had won. I settled back down and waited for him to begin. "Firstly, I can tell you that 'Mr Sinclair' is…me."

"No…" I gasped.

"I'm afraid so… and I can tell you that you just happened to have signed a contract to me…"

"Oh come on," I replied slightly impatient, "surely there's something more interesting to say."

"And that contract stated for you to not inquire about confidential information."

"And what is confidential?"

"Perhaps, oh I don't know. Persephone for starters."

"And what makes Persephone confidential?"

"Nice try, but you're not getting anymore."

"It's a prison, why would that be a secret?" Mr Sinclair's expression on me became increasingly amused as I searched him more desperately for loose answers. I was losing fast at the game I started. "Why can't I speak of it? Why did you let me out if it was so confidential?"

He signed, then leaned in to talk in my ear, in which I craned in, excited for answers, feeling his breath down my neck, giving me chills, increasing the tension further. Waiting for his southern accent cause me to shiver.

"I refuse to answer that on the grounds of 'I don't want to'."

I pulled back, frowning.

After dinner, and finishing off two bottles of wine, the lightweight I was, I had to gripped onto Mr Sinclair's arm as we strolled through the streets to Fort Frolic. Sinclair's Spirits was easily missed, closed up, lacking the neon lights which every other store had. Inside was polished wooden floors, steel tables and bar. Purple and green lights gave a nightclub atmosphere and small platform with the expanse of the ocean behind it produced a small stage.

Mr Sinclair talked about idea he had for amateur performers to get know here, but I half tuned him out, with the alcohol pumping through my veins, I walked to the window, and looked out. It was too dark to see much at all, and the purple lighting inside didn't help. Instead I could see Mr Sinclair approach me in the reflection. He stood beside me.

"I think I ought to take you home soon."

"What, why?" I looked at him, why was he so collected?

He smiled gently at me, reaching arm around my waist loosely, as to guide me out.

"Do you normally intoxicate your employees?"

"Normally my employees aren't lightweights."

"You make the sound bad." I was mildly hurt when he didn't something along the lines of 'I never do this' or 'no, only you', or something like that. Like I was special. Why would I want to be special? I was just a silly girl he was managing.

After farewelling him at my apartment, I couldn't even be bothered getting changed, I simply stripped down, draped my dress over a chair, and fell into bed.


	9. Banter

Chapter Nine: Banter

Owwwwww

Groaning and twisting, shoving a pillow over my head, doing little to muffle the irritating ring of the phone. When it finally stopped, I thought it was over, but no.

It took two more times before I finally got up to pick it up, partly expecting Jenny on the other end, who else would be this persistent?

"Hello?" My throat croaked, dry.

"Three times. It took me three times. You better have had a lovely sleep in Miss Sage, because I am NOT paying you for it."

Mr Sinclair's voice was unmistakeable. "Sounds like someone didn't get a good nights rest."

"Start interviewing, I want this bar up and running."

I rolled my eyes, muttering "Your wish is my command, Master." Hanging up.

I had selected the top ten out of 34 resumes I received, dismissing people below the age of 21 for starters, and then going for the people that sounded most confident with people.

I organised interviews for the afternoon, held at Sinclair's Spirits, having 30 minutes per interview, and an interview every hour, giving me time to quickly run over drills, see what they got to offer me for their first impression, and having time also, to analyse them in my own time afterwards.

I was halfway through all the interviewees by the time 7 had came round. The rest would be done tomorrow.

There was already a few I would consider. Take Courtney. She was bubbly, busty, and flirtatious. Exactly the type Mr Sinclair would want to be working here, but she was slow with service. Didn't know many drink orders, and they tasted strange and out of balance. But that's something she could improve on, only we don't have that much time.

The men which came in were much easier to analyse, they either had it all, or none of it.

When I got home, I found another couple more Resumes in my pneumo along with a note from Mr Sinclair, saying he had another ad put in the papers for an unpaid position performing at the bar and I too expect recordings of people wanting to perform.

And so that was my life for the next few days, interviews, listening to music recordings, writing up peoples details and making a schedule to take place Friday next week. It's later than what Mr Sinclair probably wanted, but if he wants the bar he imagines, were going to need a lot of training before hand.

I had four employees, and a biweekly schedule. They were happy to work in pairs, one man and one woman per night. For the first few weeks I would be working along side to make sure all goes smoothly. Everyday I had them come in, familiarise themselves and make drinks.

With some discussion to Jenny, she decided to bring a few, however many that is, of her friends the night before opening to have a small party and give my employees first hand experience. And so that's where we were today. I had one of the performers on my list to come down tonight as well. She had a beautiful voice, and played the guitar while standing in front the microphone on stage.

It was a nice calm evening, and the employees took turns taking orders. I reminded them that there would only be two of them working at once, and not all four, so they ought to expect a much busier time in the future, but the experience they were having now was valuable, and I could see their confidence and ease behind the bar grow.

Jenny introduced me to a few of her theatre friends, and though they only seemed to talk about the various of musicals and performance, they were nice and explained the things which I didn't understand…which was a lot more than I led on.

Mr Sinclair was nowhere to be seen, and it was relieving. He had been breathing down my neck a lot for moving the opening date a few days later, and using up the stock on training, not selling, which is partly fair.

"Ok, ok, Charlie, I'm going to make something up completely, and tell the cute guy with the red shirt to make it for me." Jenny leaned on me, giggling like she had came up with the most savage plan.

"I guess, but don't be mean to him." I allowed her. Someone else was going to come along and do something similar at one point or another, so might as well introduce them to the idea. I followed Jenny to the bar, watching her as she leaned forward seductively, battering her eyes and looking up innocently, asking for some made up concoction.

I was impressed to see Jacob handle the situation b flirting back subtly while trying to find clues as to watch she was talking about, like colour and flavour. He was going to improv the drink. Let us just hope it goes well.

A few minutes later, a bright pink liquid in a tall glass was produced. Jenny eyed him as she tasted it, frowning, then moaning in pleasure.

"That was amazing. This is delicious. You should name this something!" I leaned over, taking the drink from her hand and tasting it. She was right. It was good. I handed the glass back and turned to Jacob, complimenting his abilities.

I checked on our evenings performer to see if she was holding up ok, and offered her a glass of water. She was doing well, nervous as hell, but containing it.

Tonight's evening was going far better than expected. I was even enjoying myself.

Until I turned around.

"My, my…I've got to hand it to you, Miss Sage."

"Mr Sinclair, you gave me a job and I did it. I'm glad it is up to your expectations" I side stepped around him, but the conversation wasn't over.

"Expectations, you've exceeded them. I am truly impressed."

"You know…technically we're still not open till tomorrow."

"I'm aware of that, but these people are still paying costumers, that's profit coming."

"And profit going…" I began, "I just want to clarify about my pay…"

"Not enough? I thought what I was paying would be enough…but well I'd be happy to give you more." He offered.

"No! No, no no, it's too much! I was wondering how on earth do you make a profit when most of the money will go straight to me. This bar isn't going to become some gold mine."

"No, you're right about that. But three or four bars might."

"You're going to open more" I concluded.

"Yes, and you're going to manage them."

"Oh…wonderful."

"All in good time, Miss Sage. Now, how about a drink?"

I shook my head, "I'm watching over the staff, but you can have one. You own the place."

"Remember, you have no proof of who I am…"

"Right…So what should I call you? Eugene?"

"Eugene will do just fine, Charlie." He winked at me before approaching the bar. I took this as my cue to wonder off, doing another circuit to making sure all is well and having a good time.

I hugged Jenny goodbye in which some of her other friends thought they could join in, suffocating me in the middle. When they left, I turned to assess the mess we were left with. It wasn't too bad really. I went through the stock to investigate trends in depletion as the crew cleaned up. Mr Sinclair watching while enjoying another glass. I grabbed a discarded cloth and chucked it at him.

"Make yourself useful, 'Eugene'" I emphasised.

"You're not going to make a customer do YOUR job are you now?"

"Ohh but you're the 'special' exception. You ought to be honoured." I turned back to the stocks.

"You ought to get a uniform. Perhaps something that'll flatter your curves more. Maybe a corset….mmm that 'would' look…very…very nice on you." Mr Sinclair rambled on.

When I had finished up, I went back to him, taking his glass out of his hand, and downing the rest of his drink. Swallowing, I replied, "I think you've had enough."

And he certainly looked the part. Tie loose, collar slightly rumpled and undone. Suit's jacket on the counter, sleeves rolled up. It was almost sexy, but the moment that thought came to me I had to shake it out. Mr Sinclair grinned, "Charlie taking charge. I like that in a women."

I rolled my eyes, and went over to congratulate the team and dismiss them. "Courtney and Jacob, I'll see you two tomorrow, and Miranda and Felix, I'll see you Monday."

I gathered my things, and readying to leave, "Are you coming, Mr Sinclair?"

"Of course, Miss Sage." He grabbed his jacket, and held out his arm to escort me.

In the Bathysphere, Mr Sinclair lit up a cigar, despite there being a sign forbidding it, but I didn't say anything. We walked up to my level, and I made sure Mr Sinclair was okay getting home, the booze seem to have mostly worn off now, and with that, I bid him goodnight.

****Three Weeks Later****

Friday night. The bar was packed, men were particularly rowdy tonight, and our evenings singer was getting a lot of attention. We had our niches dotted around the joint, the flirtatious singles battering their eyes at my employees, arm wrestlers in the back, boasting at each other about how tough they are, and the ones to watch out for, surrounding the stage. I had one of the three security men move from the bar to the stage, which helped a little to settle them. I heard the sound of glass shattering. A delivery of new glass is due in for tomorrow, and I could only hope our remaining stock could last the rest of the night.

Dustpan and brush in my hands, I went over to clean up the glass, crude remarks being given to me. I simply asked them if they could leave, which to no surprise, didn't work, so I ducked over to security and had them removed. But not without a fight. Screams arose, alerting everyone, and punches were thrown. It took all of security to remove the group of men, and I went through, making sure no one else got hurt, and apologising.

It was about time for our performer to leave, and so I put on music over the speakers, and wished her a safe trip home. Things started calming down again. Fridays were always the worst.

I could see Jacob was dealing with his lady costumers well, Courtney on the other hand was beginning to look uncomfortable. I went over to see if she was alright. She repeated the things the man she was serving was saying, which I found very…disturbing and sexual. Courtney had told him to leave, but he wasn't cooperating I went over to him. He grinned maliciously.

"Look, we aren't going to serve you anymore. You can either leave quietly now, or I'll have to have security take you out. You choose."

He still smiled, and had a crazed look in his eyes I've never seen before. It made me feel sick to the stomach, but he at least moved to leave, his body so calm and composed, it didn't seem to belong to him. What was up with that man?

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Courtney again, she leaned in to talk in my ear.

"That man…Eugene? He wants you to serve him." I looked past Courtney to see Mr Sinclair, polished up as usual and waiting patiently for my service.

"What do you want?" I asked him.

"Oh Charlie, is that really how you serve costumers. Where's that womanly charm, that flirtatious smile?"

"You want charm?" I leaned across the counter, pushing out my chest, battering my eyes, biting my lip and reached out, tugging on his tied, loosening it, and locked eyes with him, briefly admiring his deep hazel eyes and in a sickly sweet tone, I asked again, "What can I get you, sir?"

"Hmmm," Mr Sinclair thought, enjoying the little act I was doing for him. "I much prefer that." He leaned in further, and that cologne he wore I could smell. "Surprise me."

I pulled back to make his drink, returning after a few minutes, holding the drink out of his reach, causing a look of confusion. "Beg for it." I smirked.

His eyes darken, a sly smile creeping up on his face. "Oh Charlie. You're really going to make your boss beg?"

"Oh but whose to say you're my boss" I winked, "Eugene."

He chuckled, before over dramatically saying, "Charlie my darling! I'll do anything…any-thing…you wish if I could have that drink."

I laughed. "Hey, begging suits you." I gave him the drink, and he winked back.

"I also talked to your employee over there… Working everyday for three weeks? Your position is manager…you do know that right?"

"I know, I gotta make sure they are alright. You look after your assets…and so do I."

Mr Sinclair shook his he before taking a swig at his drink and replying. "Tomorrow, I forbid you from working. I forbid you from stepping foot into this bar. Go out, meet someone new, have some fun."

"You're kidding me right?" But a stern look answered that for me. "Fine!" I sighed.

"That's my girl."

I topped up his glass every so often, after hours, escorted him to the Bathysphere. It was a sweet way to end the night. You know, sometimes Mr Sinclair really gets under my skin, but at these times, it's not so bad, he treats me more as a friend than some employee, which I suppose is how it is meant to be, but friendship is a much nicer alternative.

Perhaps I should give him the wake up call in the morning, just to irritate him, give him a taste of his own medicine from a few weeks ago…


End file.
